


Breath

by Professor_Bats



Category: Shingeki, Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe - Canon, Character Death, Gen, Manga Spoilers, Other, character life?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-24
Updated: 2016-12-24
Packaged: 2018-09-11 16:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8998753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Professor_Bats/pseuds/Professor_Bats
Summary: The soft, silver-blue moonlight filters down on the burial ground that is Shinganshina, but the city isn't as dead as it was thought to be.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first story on AO3, which is the finished form of a draft I posted to my Erwin Smith blog last fall (2016).  
> MAJOR MANGA SPOILERS  
> It does deal with canon divergence, and was meant to be a bit of a therapeutic response to canon events.

Erwin’s lungs shook as he inhaled sharply, his heart pounding against his ribs like a trapped bird. It was quite dark and he could feel that he was laying against a mattress that smelled as if it had sat for quite a long time without use.  
Dust filling his lungs despite the fabric that was over his face as he took stock of his senses, flexing his fingers on his left hand as blood seemed to rush to his fingertips, causing his fingers to twitch and ache. He tried to repeat this action in his right arm, his brain tricking him into feeling the weight of the missing limb. He exhaled slowly, now aware of the reality of the situation.  
Feebly he reached, pulling the green woolen cloak from his face, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the otherwise vacant and dusty room.  
All the memories came flooding back to him with a wave of regret and nausea and he wretched into his hand, sitting up in the bed as best as he could.  
The pain that split his sight brought a fresh wave of reality and he clenched his teeth as he choked back a cry of pain. His hand moved across the blood-soaked bandage, his fingers feeling the wound beneath.  
He had died, of this he was certain, yet here he was.  
As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, he scanned the room, only a sliver of cold moonlight shining through the broken, dirty glass of the single window.  
On a table beside the bed sat a makeshift vase -an old wine bottle- filled with wildflowers that were just now beginning to droop, a few stray petals scattering the dusty bedside table. It had been only what…a day? Perhaps even a few hours…  
Erwin's mouth was dry, his head spinning as his situation sunk in in that dark and silent room; this room had been meant as his tomb.  
The silence seemed to fill the room as Erwin was left with his thoughts, wondering how he could make it back to civilization safely.  
A heavy sadness filled his limbs as he sat back against the pillows. To come so close to truth only to have to ripped from his hands yet again stung worse than any wound to his mortal flesh ever could. It seemed although he was destined to never discover the truth of humanity; the truth for which his father, and countless others, had died.  
Choking back a wave of emotion, the man rose weakly to his feet, knowing time was not on his side. Was anything ever on his side?  
He desperately wanted water, though none could be found within the room. It made sense; there was no logic in leaving provisions for a corpse.  
Erwin’s hands moved along the weathered wood as he braced himself against the wall, guiding himself down the rickety stairs into the ruined house.  
It had, like everything in Shiganshina, been left in a hurry. It looked like plates had been left on the table in the kitchen, the remains of whatever food had been on there long ago carried away by insects and scavengers.  
He tested the pump in the kitchen, weakly pushing it up and down as he leaned against the basin below for stability. Initially, it only produced a muddy, rusty slime but after a minute of pumping, Erwin managed to produce a cool, clear stream of drinking water.  
He cupped his hands beneath the stream, bending painfully as the cool water washed over his lips, dispelling his thirst. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet to him.  
After a moment, he stood, catching his breath as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, looking around the kitchen.  
Dusty jars of preserves sat on the shelf, mummified garlic and onions hanging from the ceiling alongside several bunches of dusty, stale dried herbs.  
He began setting aside whatever seemed to still be viable, taking frequent breaks to keep from opening his wounds.  
When he was satisfied with what he had found, he sat back and took stock. He would have to travel light, and he didn’t think he could get very far unless he had a horse.  
The Scouting Legion had lost several horses over the years they had been operating, mostly due to the horse getting spooked after losing its rider. He knew many had run away after their riders had been killed in the vanguard, perhaps there were some that still lingered, though it seemed like a shot in the dark.  
Carefully, Erwin made his selections, using an old wine bottle to carry water as he wrapped everything else in a square of rotting, embroidered fabric that he had found in a cabinet.  
The thought crossed him briefly that he was looting, though he felt not an ounce of regret; he doubted the original owners had any use for these things, and it was about survival, after all.  
After a few moments of rest, he took a deep breath, stepping out into the narrow street. He could see the damage in the moonlight, both old and new.  
He was confronted by darkened stains on shattered cobblestones where he knew but a few hours before members of his own Legion had been torn apart or crushed to death.  
The Commander pressed onward, using a piece of weathered timber he found to stabilize himself as he passed corpses both old and fresh.  
He wondered how long it would be before the shifters came back, casting a furtive glance at the moon that hung overhead, shrouded by thin butts. He would have a bit of time to travel by the remaining light of the waning moon if he was careful. The hardest part would be finding a safe place to hole up for the day, but if he stayed close to the wall, that wouldn’t be too much of an issue.  
Perhaps things were finally on his side on that sense.  
It took a little while for him to reach the edge of the town, and he was forced to stop, resting on a broken stone as he looked out over the broad valley, swathed in pale blue light. His side was burning, itching painfully, the flesh mending itself slowly. It hurt, but it wasn’t a bad feeling.  
Raising his hand to his lips, he whistled. It was a crisp, clear sound that echoed across the valley, resounding off the high, man-made walls and bouncing back to where he rested.  
All noises of the night stopped, the world seemed to freeze in place. Holding his breath, Erwin prayed to whatever powers that be that his salvation would come until finally, distantly, Erwin made out the sound of hooves.


End file.
